Just A Boy, Just A Girl
by LadyAmerica82
Summary: Cranky Avengers need caffeine so Steve volunteers for a coffee run. Embarrassed by the complicated drinks they want him to order, he is shaken out of his stupor by a young woman who seems to like her coffee as simple as he does. Steve/OC One-shot with potential for more. All Avengers included. T for language to be safe. Read & review, please!


**Author's Note: So this little diddy refused to let me work on my other story unless I told this tale first. The concept is for a one-shot but there's definitely room to grow. I'm marking it as complete at the moment but if you want to see more, send me a review to let me know and what you would like to see happen. I'm always open to new ideas and suggestions!**

 **Disclaimer: The Avengers are owned by Marvel and Marvel Studios. All of the crazy drinks come from an article on the Huffington Post's website. This work is not intended to infringe on any copyrights and no money is being made from this work. This story has been written purely for fun. Any and all mistakes are of my own making. (Still in need of a beta!)  
**

 _What the hell was I thinking?_ Looking down at the list in his hand, Steve Rogers grunted in frustration. _I just had to volunteer. I thought the 21st century hazing would be over with by now._

It had been a long few weeks for the Avengers, filled with briefings, missions, debriefings, and repeating the seemingly endless cycle over and over again until May had turned into June, the trees in Central Park blossoming while the superheroes were all out doing what felt more like chasing their tails rather than chasing bad guys. Now, Nick Fury had decided that the six crusaders of justice deserved a break. A two week break. Well, at least it was something.

Tony Stark had wanted to take everyone to his newly built mansion on the Malibu hillside but was tired of being in the air. It didn't matter to the others that they would be traveling on a luxury jet and not the Avengers Quinjet, being airborne was being airborne and the team wanted nothing more than to keep their feet firmly planted in the ground after over six weeks of dancing in the clouds. Instead, everyone agreed that they would all stay in the tower, just relaxing, watching movies, ordering take out, and enjoying the company of one another as themselves rather than their superhero counterparts.

Things had been going well since the team returned from New Zealand. It has taken a few days, but everyone had now shed the fatigue that came with running missions back to back. Natasha Romanoff and her partner Clint Barton were back to bickering and teasing one another. Thor had strangely taken to reading history books on the colonization of America (much to Steve's patriotic delight). Pepper Potts managed to convince JARVIS to lock down Tony's lab so he couldn't fiddle with his Iron Man suits or the Iron Legion project. Steve had picked up a few blank canvases and a variety of paints, deciding to attempt to take his artistic endeavors a step further. Even Bruce Banner was relaxed, going for a swim every morning before cooking breakfast each day. Had anyone been watching them, no one would have been able to believe that this band of costumed misfits was actually _the_ Avengers.

All of this had led Steve to where he was now...standing outside of a fancy coffee shop with a complicated list of frivolous ridiculousness in his hand. It was a few hours before noon and everyone had still been feeling sluggish after the previous night's late drunken revelries. Everyone except Steve. So when Tony started whining about how he couldn't fix his espresso machine because Pepper had locked him out of his lab, and Natasha, Clint, and Bruce glared glared at Pepper for keeping Tony from providing them with an abundance of caffeine, Steve had volunteered to make a coffee run.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Go down to the cafe across the street, picked up seven large coffees, and come back before anyone was killed due to caffeine withdrawals.

Except, he should have known, with the Avengers, there was no such thing as simple.

Instead of being across the streets, Steve was three blocks away from the tower because Tony had insisted that coffee wasn't just coffee, that it absolutely _had_ to come from this coffee shop to be considered coffee. To make matters worse, they had given him a list...a list that read more like jibberish. Or, at least, that how he felt as he read it.

 **Tony:** ** **Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free  
**** **Pepper:** ** **Iced, Half Caff, Venti,**** ** **four**** ** **-Pump, Sugar Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte  
**** **Bruce:** ** **Grande Chai Tea Latte, 3 Pump, Skim Milk, Lite Water, No Foam, Extra Hot  
**** **Thor:** ** **Venti 1/2 &1/2, 10 Pumps Vanilla, Extra Whip  
**** **Natasha:** **Triple** ** **, Venti, Half Sweet, Non-Fat, Caramel Macchiato  
**** **Clint:** ** **Non-Fat Frappuccino With Extra Whipped Cream And Chocolate Sauce  
**** **Steve: large, plain old boring coffee :'(**

The list was in Pepper's neat handwriting, all except for Steve's order. He would recognize Tony's chicken scratch anywhere. So what if all he wanted was a large coffee with two sugars? That's how he drank it in the 1940s, it was how he drank it during the war, and continued to be how he drank it after he had woken up. In a world of such senseless frivolity, there was nothing wrong with staying true to his roots, even if everyone told him and Venti Triple Shot White Mocha was "positively delish."

Steve entered the coffee shop, the ridiculous list still clutched in his hand. He looked around and noticed that there was only two other customers there. _Everyone is probably still at work, waiting for their lunch breaks. At least fewer people means a little less embarrassment._ He couldn't explain it, but he knew that this was going to be embarrassing. Sure, it was only a coffee order, but Steve was more comfortable launching himself out of an airplane without a parachute over a live combat zone than ordering complicated coffee...no, _espresso…_ for his friends and teammates. _Ridiculous. Buck up, Rogers._

He shook his head, quietly laughing at himself. Seriously, what was his problem? It was just drinks. If he was that nervous about it, he could just hand the list to the cashier, right? _No, I can't do that. It's rude. Just read the list word-for-word. And hope she doesn't judge you_.

Steve walked up to the counter where a young blonde who couldn't be much older than twenty was smiling and nodding, her long ponytail bopping behind her. "Good morning! What can I get for you today?"

He returned her grin and looked down at the paper clutched in his hand. _Just do it._ "I'd like to get...uh, um...a large coffee, please." _Well, at least that's one drink down._

"Cream or sugar?"

"Two sugars, please."

"Is there anything else I can get you?" The woman's smile was still firmly in place and, for some reason, it was only making Steve more nervous.

 _Just order the other six crazy drinks so you can get the hell out of here and never come back._ "That's all, thank you."

Continuing to smile and nod, the cashier grabbed a large cup and walked over to the coffee carafe. Steve watched and she pumped out his coffee, added two sugars, stirred the beverage, and put a plastic lid on the cup. After sliding a cardboard sleeve on the exterior so he wouldn't burn his hand, she placed the drink in front of him. "That's $2.57."

Handing her a five dollar bill he said, "Keep the change," before walking to the far embankment of windows that overlooked part of Central Park.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"I've heard crazier." Steve startled and almost dropped his coffee. He turned to see where the voice had come from. There was a small round table with a wing chair on either of its side about six feet behind them. A petite woman was curled up in one of the chairs, her legs tucked beneath her, a book in one hand and her drink in the other.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

The woman looked up and Steve couldn't help but stare at her. She was beautiful in what his mother would have called a simple way. Her long, dark honey colored hair fell in loose wave well past her shoulders. Large blue and gold eyes were framed by long black lashes devoid of mascara. Behind her plain wire-rimmed glasses, her cheekbones rode high and were dusted in a faint blush. A soft, melodious voice fell from her plump pink lips.

"I've heard crazier drinks being ordered here than the ones on your list."

Steve chuckled and took a few steps towards the woman. "I didn't know that was humanly possible."

"My step-brother like to order a Venti Non-Fat, No-Whip, Triple Shot, Sugar-Free Soy Chai Tea Latte with No Water, 2% Foam, 120 Degrees, and Caramel Drizzle," she said, the expression on her face emotionless. Steve allowed his jaw to drop slightly and, at his stupor, she let out a musical laugh. "Crazy enough for you?"

"What are you drinking?" he nodded toward her cup.

"Coffee. Plain boring coffee with sugar and a little bit of cream. Call me simplistic." The woman waved a hand to the chair opposite from her. "Care to take a load off, Mr. Rogers?"

With that one sentence, his stupor was broken. "You know who I am?"

She again waved to the seat, almost insistent that he join her before speaking. "No offense, but I don't think there's a single woman over the age of sixteen on the planet who _doesn't_ know who you are. Case in point." She vaguely hitched her thumb behind her toward the counter. Steve looked over to see the cashier leaning by the register, dreamily staring at him. No, not a him, at his chest. "If you wanna go incognito, you gotta do better than a ball cap. And a Dodgers one at that."

Steve's hand reached for the bill of his cap to pull it down a little further over his eyes. Taking a seat, he turned his gaze to the simple coffee drinker. "What's wrong with my cap?"

"Dodgers, man, and you're in Manhattan. It's almost like you _want_ people to look at you. You wanna blend, where a Yankees cap." She smiled, laugh lines crinkling gently in the corners of her eyes.

He took a tentative sip of his coffee, pretending to think the suggestion over. Smirking back at her, he replied, "Never."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Well then, don't come crying to me when a horde of horny women try to attack you on the street."

"How can I when I don't know your name?" _Smooth, Rogers._

"Maribelle."

"What?"

"My name. It's Maribelle." She held out a hand to him. "My friends just call me Elle."

Steve took her hand firmly in his own and gave it a small shake. "Steve Rogers."

Elle returned his shake, glad that he hadn't treated her hand like it was made of porcelain that would break at any moment. "Nice to meet ya, Steve."

"Likewise." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg over his knee. "Come here often?" _Great conversation starter. Sound like a stalker much?_

Elle nodded and took a drink. "Every day at this time. I'm a freelance writer so I come here for coffee and to do research and get a little peace and quiet since my neighbors aren't quite sure what the definition of quiet is. How about you."

"Never been here before. Everyone, my teammates, wanted coffee and I volunteered to go get it."

"Lemme guess, they sent you out of the way to someplace they knew you would be uncomfortable to order a bunch of complicated drinks that they also knew would embarrass you because of your simplistic nature?" Steve stared at her a moment, flustered.

"Are you psychic or something?"

Elle shook her head and laughed. "Nah, just sounds like a thing Tony Stark would do. Am I right?" He nodded sheepishly. "Huh, I'da thought that your friends would stop hazing you by now. I mean, geez, you've been back for five years now."

"You sure you're not a mind reader? 'Cause that's the exact thought I had before I came in here." Steve's eyes locked with Elle's for a moment before she broke their gaze, looking down and blushing.

"Nah, I'm just a broad who know a thing or two about reading people."

While Steve tried to think of something else to say, a gentle buzzing broke the silence around them. Pulling her phone from her pocket and checking the screen, Elle sighed. "My current editor wants to discuss my latest piece with me. Great. The only time he wants to 'discuss' something is when he hates it. I've gotta go." Setting her drink down on the table, Elle stood and grabbed her messenger bag, stuffing her book into it before pulling the strap over her head. "It was nice talking to you, Steve." She picked up her drink and held her hand out to him again.

Steve returned the motion, feeling the warmth of her skin mixing with his own. "You, too, Elle." A small smile was exchanged and then she was gone.

He sat for a few more minutes, sipping his now tepid coffee and watching as more and more people began to file into the coffee shop for their lunch breaks. _Better get out of here before this turns into an autograph session or something._ Rising, Steve made his way out the door and back into the warm New York air.

When he arrived back at the tower, Steve saw everyone sitting in the common room staring at him. "What the hell, Rogers? Where have you been?" Tony shouted.

"I went to get...coffee..." _Shit!_ He had forgotten to get the coffee. Glancing down at his watch, Steve realized he'd been gone for over an hour. "Uh...yeah, I'll be right back." He turned on his heel and headed back toward the elevator.

"Don't bother," Natasha called after him. "After you were gone for half an hour, we threatened to infect JARVIS with a virus and he let Tony in the lab to fix the espresso machine."

 _Thank God._

Steve returned to the common room, a pained look on his face. "I'm so sorry, guys. I got there and was going to order everything and then I got embarrassed and only ordered my coffee because I was so embarrassed and..." he trailed off after rambling.

"That's alright, Steve." Pepper appeared beside him and gently placed her hand on his arm. "We figured that's what happened. But I do have to say that it's surprising you didn't just bring back regular coffee or something. It's not like you to forget what you've gone out for."

A blush crept into his cheeks. "What makes you think I forgot?" he asked softly.

"Maybe the fact that there's only one cup of coffee in your hands, Rogers," Clint replied. "Dude, you never forget _anything_. What gives?"

All eyes were now on Steve. He could feel a blush creeping its way up his neck. _Just tell them nothing. Tell them you're distracted. Tell them anything but the truth because they'll never let it go._

Before he realized what he was doing, Steve spoke.

"I met a girl."

 **Well, what do you think? I know, it's not an update on my other story, and I'm sorry, but Maribelle starting demanding I let her finally speak before she would let me work on my other ficlet. Love it? Hate it? Wanna see more of this? Steve is telling me he has more he wants to say, but he's not willing to unless people say they wanna hear more. Leave me a review so I'll know what to tell him! Love you guys!**

 **PS – There will be a link in my profile to the Huffington Post article that those complicated drinks came from. Feel free to check it out, it borders on crazy!**


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